


principles of momentum

by oreo2stuf



Category: Gorilla Interrupted (2003), RedLetterMedia RPF
Genre: Feelings Realization, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, he was not a skater boy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-24
Updated: 2020-09-24
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:15:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26625793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oreo2stuf/pseuds/oreo2stuf
Summary: In retrospect, Dex should’ve known better than to go with Sid to the run-down skate park at the edge of town, especially at one in the morning.
Relationships: Sid/Dex
Comments: 10
Kudos: 32





	principles of momentum

**Author's Note:**

> just wanted to do something dumb and cute, because my god this fandom writes some heavy stuff.

In retrospect, Dex should’ve known better than to go with Sid to the run-down skate park at the edge of town, especially at one in the morning.

Sid had given a surprisingly convincing argument about centripetal force and the scientific value of skateboard tricks. Granted, Dex didn’t feel a personal need for a practical physics lesson, for obvious reasons, but he’d been impressed – and, honestly, a little touched – that Sid wanted to engage with Dex in any sort of scientific discussion.

It became clear pretty quickly, however, that this wasn’t Sid’s actual intent.

“Did you seriously drag me out here just to help you with your fucking graffiti?”

“First of all,” Sid says, shaking his can of spray paint, “I didn’t drag you out here. You were more than happy to come.”

“Because I thought you were getting into physics! Not to help you _vandalize._ ”

“It’s not vandalizing. I’m painting over other people’s vandalizing. I’m anti-vandalizing.”

Dex looks down at the can Sid shoved at him earlier. The cap is bright green. If nothing else, Dex can respect Sid’s dedication to maintaining a personal brand.

“But what if the cops see us?”

Sid snorts. “You think the cops give a shit about this place? You could set off a bomb here and they wouldn’t bother driving by.” He pauses. “Can you make bombs?”

“No. Well, probably.”

“Would you make—”

“ _No.”_

“Coward,” Sid mutters. “Whatever. Just stand off to the side if you aren’t gonna do shit.”

Dex’s still a little bitter that Sid lied to him, but Sid’s his ride back, so Dex sits down on a concrete step and watches Sid spray profanity over other people’s work. It’s pretty stupid, and Dex thinks it’s probably poor graffiti etiquette or something, but it’s also kind of fun, especially when Sid runs out of ideas and starts asking for suggestions.

“What about ‘cunt?’ I’m surprised you haven’t used that one yet.”

“Cunt! Yes!” Sid shoots him a grin; he’s holding a cloth over his face, but his eyes are lit up. Dex hates that it makes him feel proud of himself. As if getting some punk asshole to smile at him is an accomplishment.

Even if that punk asshole has a nice smile. Not that Dex has ever thought that.

Sid switches to green after his black paint runs out. Dex can’t make out what he’s working on from this angle until Sid finishes and tells him to come and look.

The uneven green smiley face on the wall has square glasses and buck teeth, and Dex stares at it for a second before turning and giving Sid his best unimpressed look.

“Hold on, let me label it.” Sid shakes the can again before carefully spraying ‘NERD’ under cartoon-Dex. “There, now it’s finished.”

Dex rolls his eyes. “I’m flattered.”

Sid laughs, and Dex does his best to ignore the part of himself that actually _is_ kind of flattered, as well as the fluttery feeling in the pit of his stomach that comes with it.

“Are we done?” Dex asks. “What time is it?”

“I don’t know, my phone’s in the car.”

Dex sighs and checks his pockets, but they’re empty save for a single pencil stub. “Mine too, I think.”

He takes a second to look around. The full moon means it’s still easy to see this late at night, and the cool-toned cast on everything makes the skatepark feel otherworldly. The only other light source is the single remaining working lamppost a little ways away, flickering in a sea of concrete like the world’s shittiest lighthouse.

“Do you even have a skateboard?”

“No.”

Dex sighs again. Sid taps a little rhythm on the side of his can, and Dex follows it up with two knocks on the metal rail next to him without really thinking. It gets him another smile.

“You should be my drummer,” Sid says. “You’re better than the last guy.”

Dex squints. “Last guy? You mean the guy before the new guy?”

“No, the new guy quit too.”

“What, after a _week?_ What did you do to him?”

“Nothing,” Sid says, but his eyes shift away.

Dex raises his eyebrows.

“I’m serious.”

Dex tilts his head.

“All I did was say his playing was trash –”

“There it is.”

“ _Whatever_. It was true.” Sid turns the can in his hand and looks Dex over. “Really, you could probably replace him. I do need a new drummer.”

 _That’s_ a mental image. “I don’t think so.”

“I’m serious!” Sid says. “Drumming’s just numbers and flailing. You’re good at those.”

“ _Flailing?_ And, no – I can do math, but I’m not musical. Besides,” Dex says, gesturing at his glasses, “I don’t exactly have the, uh. Look for it.”

Sid gives Dex a once-over. “I mean, you could. Here, let me –”

He puts the spray paint down and starts taking his leather jacket off as he walks closer to Dex, holding it out once he’s stood in front of him. “Put it on.”

“What? Why?”

Sid groans impatiently and shakes the jacket in Dex’s face. “So we can see if you can have the look. C’mon, dickhead, try it.”

Dex huffs, yanks the jacket from Sid’s hands and starts putting his arms through the holes. It’s huge on him, the sleeves dangling just past his fingertips. It feels heavy on his shoulders and smells a little like smoke, which Dex finds himself kind of liking. He doesn’t zip it closed, because he’s sure it looks ridiculous enough as is; Sid’s smiling like he’s trying not to laugh when Dex looks up.

“Fuck off, asshole, obviously it was gonna be too big.”

“No, no, you look great,” Sid says. He reaches out to adjust the collar. “Very badass.”

Dex feels himself going red as he glares. “Shut up.” He starts shrugging off the jacket, annoyed that he agreed to put it on in the first place. At the very least, he can’t see for _himself_ how embarrassing he looks, but it’s not much of a silver lining.

“Wait, no, don’t.” Sid stops Dex with a hand on his shoulder and pulls the jacket back up. “Keep it on for a while. See if you grow into it – that wasn’t a short joke, don’t give me that look.”

Dex pouts. That was definitely a short joke. “Fine, but don’t make fun of me. You’re the one who made me put it on.”

“I’m not making fun of you,” Sid argues. “It’s big on you, but it’s cute.”

Dex wishes the fluttery feeling in the pit of his stomach would chill the fuck out, because he knows Sid doesn’t mean _cute_ cute, he means _I’m-being-condescending_ cute. At least, Dex is pretty sure – Sid’s tone wasn’t very mocking, and his grin’s relaxed into something softer, but the weight of years of knowing Sid prevent Dex from getting his hopes up.

Or, at least, it should.

 _Fuck_ the pit of his stomach.

Sid clears his throat. “Let’s walk around. See if there’s any cool shit.”

Dex starts following Sid up the steps, one hand on the rail. He stuffs the other in the jacket pocket and feels a small tube.

He pulls it out and looks at it. “Chapstick?”

Sid turns around at the top of the stairs and frowns. “Something wrong with that?”

There isn’t anything wrong with it; Dex uses lip balm too. But there’s a very rare and enticing opportunity in that edge of embarrassment to Sid’s voice. “What do you need soft lips for?”

Sid visibly tenses up. Dex feels smug – it’s what Sid gets for making fun of him all the time.

“Shut up. Some of us just don’t want our lips all fucked up. Asshole.” Sid snatches the tube from Dex’s hand and puts it in his pants pocket, then walks over to the edge of the – bowl? Ditch? Hole with the curved walls? Dex doesn’t know what it’s called – and sits down, dangling his feet over the edge. Dex follows and sits next to him.

Sid leans back on his forearms after a minute, tilting his face towards the sky. “Do you know constellations and shit?”

Dex shrugs. “A couple.”

“Show me.”

Dex looks up. It’s been a while since he’s done any kind of stargazing, and the only one he can confidently make out is Cassiopeia. He tries to point it out to Sid, who laughs.

“Of all the shit, you show me the one that’s just a letter?”

“I don’t know most constellations that well. Cassiopeia’s just easy to find. Besides, don’t act like you wouldn’t make fun of me for knowing more than, like, two.”

“Who, me? I’d never do that.”

Dex turns around to make sure Sid can see his eye roll. Sid sticks his tongue out.

After a minute of looking up Dex leans back, slowly moving until the back of his head touches the concrete. Sid does the same.

“I tried to make a hoverboard once,” Dex says.

“Really?” Sid turns his head towards him. “Did it work?”

“No, I just sprained my ankle and set our backyard on fire. To be fair, I was thirteen.”

“I set shit on fire when I was thirteen, too,” Sid says.

Dex turns his head to the side, too. “You set shit on fire _now._ ”

“And you don’t?” Sid asks.

“Not on purpose.”

Face-to-face like this, Dex has an even better view of Sid’s weird guttural cackle than usual. He feels like he’s been seeing it more and more often whenever they hang out.

Sid’s been kind of weird, lately. His reasons for inviting himself over to Dex’s house keep getting more and more vague, and he’s scared Dex shitless multiple times because Dex would get home and walk into a room and see Sid standing there unannounced. Sid had claimed he was actually doing Dex a favor by demonstrating how easy it was to find his spare key, to which Dex had responded that this was an awful way to warn someone about that. Either way, Dex let Sid have the spare key, with the stipulation that he send Dex a text message if he’s letting himself in.

On top of that, he’s been – different, to Dex. He’ll still call Dex a lameass nerd, but now the way he says it comes across like a term of endearment more than anything else. Dex forgets to eat when he gets caught up with projects, and when Sid learned this he started bringing food to Dex’s house on days when Dex was busy. Some of them were even homemade, and surprisingly decent.

And now, Sid’s stargazing with Dex.

Dex finds this all incredibly concerning.

“Are you about to die?”

Sid frowns. “What?”

“Do you have a tumor or something?” Dex scans Sid’s face for any signs of – whatever. He doesn’t _look_ sick, but a lot of people with terminal illnesses don’t until near the end. “Is it lung cancer? You smoke sometimes. Are you, like, making amends to people? Is that why you’re being nice to me?”

Sid’s face falls a little. “Dex—”

“I _knew_ it,” Dex says, sitting up and hugging his legs. “When’s the day? Are you getting euthanized?”

“Fuckin’ hell, I’m not dying.” Sid sits up on his elbows. “Shit, Dex, I – is that really the only reason you think I’d be nice to you?”

“No,” Dex mutters, even though it’s kind of true. He feels shitty for even mentioning it, especially if Sid’s genuinely trying to be a nicer person. It’s more self-improvement than Dex has managed over the past year. “Forget it, I’m just tired.”

“Wait, no.” Sid pushes himself up, presumably so he can see Dex’s face better. Dex is currently resting his forehead on his knees, which is a pretty insufficient hiding spot, but it’s more subtle than trying to run away. Also, Sid has longer legs. “Listen, Dex – I know I’ve been a dick to you, yeah?”

Dex takes a second to breathe in, getting those hints of smoke and leather again, before he turns his head. Sid’s looking at the ground.

“It wasn’t that bad,” Dex says. “I called you an asshole a lot.”

“Yeah, but you also upgraded my guitar ten times.”

“Twelve.”

Sid snorts. “Sure, twelve.”

He finally looks up, holds Dex’s gaze long enough that Dex feels nervous. Dex breaks eye contact first and starts fiddling with the small blunt spikes attached to the jacket’s left sleeve. It’s partially detached from the fabric – if Dex tugged hard enough, he could probably pull it off. He moves his hand away.

“Why’d you only do one sleeve?”

“Don’t remember,” Sid says, squinting. He raises his hand to touch the spike Dex just let go of, then tugs. It comes off easily in his hand.

“Shit, sorry.”

Sid shakes his head. “It was gonna happen anyways.”

He turns it over in his fingers for a second before he reaches for Dex’s wrist, pulls it up towards him, and drops the spike into Dex’s open palm.

“Apology gift,” Sid says, mouth quirked up at the corners.

Dex stares at the fingers curled around his wrist. The tip of Sid’s thumb is laying up against the base of Dex’s palm, close enough to the pulse point that he prays Sid can’t feel his heartbeat. For once in his life, he’s glad for the constant chirping from crickets in the summer, because without that Sid might be able to hear his heartbeat, too.

Sid’s hand is so _warm._

“Thanks,” Dex jokes, closing his own fingers around the cold metal. His mouth feels dry. “I’ll treasure it forever.”

“You could glue it to your lab coat,” Sid suggests. “We’d match.”

Dex giggles nervously, flushing at the implication there. Not that he thinks Sid actually means it like that, or anything. “That’s one way to do a couple’s costume.”

Sid scoffs. “Studs aren’t a costume. They’re a lifestyle.”

A few seconds pass, and Sid still hasn’t let go of Dex’s wrist, and he’s staring.

Dex hasn’t pulled away, and he’s staring back.

“How do you put the spikes on?” Dex whispers. He feels like he’s made of some fragile material all of a sudden, buzzing at a frequency that’ll break him like an opera singer shattering glass if someone speaks too loudly.

“Usually, they screw into a backing.” Sid’s voice is also low. Dex wonders if he feels the same tension. Maybe he’s just following Dex’s lead. Neither are particularly characteristic for Sid. “But that one was just hot glue.”

“Maybe you should use gorilla glue next time.”

Sid smirks, but it falls away a few seconds later.

“Dex.”

“Yeah?”

Sid’s eyes dart between Dex’s eyes, then to his mouth, then to his eyes again. Dex doesn’t know exactly what Sid sees there, but whatever it is, it makes Sid start leaning in, and Dex’s thoughts start racing.

The slow speed at which Sid’s moving and the distance between them means – provided his velocity and acceleration stay constant – that Sid’s nose will make contact with Dex’s in about three seconds (rounding up to the nearest integer). The slight angle at which Sid’s head is tilted, however, means that Sid won’t be obstructed by this – rather, his nose will slide _along_ Dex’s, meaning that the only physical obstruction stopping Sid is if—

Sid’s lips touch his.

Technically, Sid’s kissing the corner of Dex’s mouth, so their actual lips are barely touching at all. But Dex is having a difficult time identifying where his calculations went wrong or when Sid’s trajectory shifted, especially when Sid lingers for a moment before pulling away, just far enough for Dex to see his eyes again.

Dex doesn’t have the best instinct for this, but he can tell Sid’s waiting for some kind of response.

“Your chapstick works good.”

Sid stares at Dex for a second before he starts giggling and finally lets go of Dex’s wrist, falling forward so that his forehead lands on Dex’s shoulder, shaking as he laughs harder and harder.

“You – I wasn’t expecting – shut _up!”_ Dex hisses.

Sid eventually manages to compose himself, sitting back up enough so he’s at least looking into Dex’s face instead of his shoulder.

“Sorry,” Sid says, a little breathless. “You’re just – fuck, you’re cute.”

Dex feels his face go red. “I’m not cute.”

“Yes, you are. Scientific fact. You’re into those.” His smile’s a little less manic, now. Dex wants to tell Sid that’s not how science works, and that there’s no objective qualifier for cute, but Sid’s raising his hand to touch Dex’s jaw before he gets a chance to present his rebuttal.

“Can I try that again?” Sid asks.

“Um,” Dex says, and he feels for a moment like he shouldn’t let Sid kiss him again, because that might give Sid the impression that Dex finds his conclusions regarding _cuteness_ valid.

However, he’d be doing both himself, Sid, and the scientific community at large a major disservice by not seeing Sid’s initial trajectory to its natural conclusion, so Dex carefully reaches down, tucks the metal spike into his pants pocket, and nods.

This time, when Sid leans in, he kisses Dex square-on, using the hand on Dex’s jaw to tilt him for a better angle. Dex’s first observation remains correct – Sid’s lips are soft – but now he’s got some new data, like how nice Sid’s thumb feels moving against Dex’s jawline, or how much Dex likes the way Sid will softly bite Dex’s lower lip, or the groan of approval Sid makes when Dex shifts closer so he can put his arms around Sid’s neck.

Dex stops keeping track of all this new information when Sid coaxes Dex’s mouth open, because honestly, internally framing this as an experiment and processing the pleasure he’s getting out of this like data collection feels kind of silly when there’s a tongue in his mouth.

They’re both breathing pretty hard by the time they take a break, and without the distraction of making out Dex starts feeling the toll of sitting in a contorted position on hard concrete. Sid must notice it too; he winces when he stretches his neck.

“We should probably get up,” Dex says. “My ass hurts.”

Sid raises his eyebrows. “Really? We haven’t even gotten to that yet.”

Dex smacks Sid’s shoulder before struggling to stand up. His back is stiff, and he does his best to stretch it out while Sid gets up too.

“Hey,” Sid says, and when Dex looks up Sid leans down to kiss him one more time, soft and lingering. Dex hums into it, misses the contact when Sid pulls away even though the data implies, after careful statistical analysis and, um, _peer review,_ that, uh.

He’s pretty sure he’ll get more later, is the point.

“Wanna come back to my place?” Dex asks. “I’ve got eggs."

Sid’s face lights up, like maybe he wasn’t expecting the invitation. “You’ll make us breakfast?”

“We’re using my food, so you can cook,” Dex says. “After we sleep some, anyways.”

Sid groans. “Fine, but I’m only making scrambled eggs.”

“I like scrambled eggs,” Dex says, swaying into Sid a little to bump their arms together as they start walking back to the car. “Oh, hey, we left the spray paint.”

“Leave it, someone else’ll come by and take it.” Sid pauses. “Unless you want me to paint a little love heart somewhere.”

“God, no.”

“You sure? I’ll even do our initials.”

“ _No.”_

Mercifully, Sid just laughs and lets Dex lead them back to his car.

They’re just opening the doors when Sid looks back towards the skate park. “Hey, how does centripetal force work, anyways?”

“Oh, so _now_ you want to know.”

Sid laughs. “Explain it on the way back?”

“Fine,” Dex says, trying to sound annoyed but most likely failing. He ducks into the car and buckles his seatbelt as Sid turns the key in the ignition. Dex figures from experience that Sid’s only going to pay attention to Dex’s explanation for about forty-five seconds before getting bored or distracted.

Sid reaches across the gearshift, squeezes Dex’s hand, and manages to listen for a full seven minutes.

**Author's Note:**

> also i didn't write it bc exposition is boring but let's just say this takes place in a diff timeline where dex and julie are gay besties and defeat satan with the power of friendship. platonic love is just as real as romantic love, gang. also julie has a hot demon girlfriend she met when she got kidnapped who helps her escape because hey, who wouldnt want a hot demon gf?
> 
> also, the skate park was initially just a setting for a short intro scene for the fic i STARTED writing, but then I just stayed on the concrete and wrote this instead.


End file.
